


Open Door Policy

by spaceyquill



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Multi, Slow Burn, post-ROTS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:45:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8570290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceyquill/pseuds/spaceyquill
Summary: One year into the Empire, Cody flees to Alderaan where Bail Organa doesn't hesitate to help.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ravens_rising](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravens_rising/gifts).



With the way the Coruscant Guard rehashed their story of escorting Representative Binks, and the Wolfpack griped endlessly about babysitting droids, Commander Cody feared the worst when the 212th was assigned to ferry an Alderaanian senator across the galaxy.

Immediately Cody went in search of Obi-Wan Kenobi, and found him watching the central holoterminal amid the pre-departure bustle on the flagship bridge. His helmet under one arm, he stepped into the glow of the destination map.

“General,” Cody intoned, low enough to not be overheard, “this should fall to the Coruscant Guard, not us. They escort senators across the galaxy all the time—this is their responsibility.”

Obi-Wan stood as impassive as ever, a hand on his beard. “Senator Bail Organa is a very distinguished politician, and the Eufrey System he’s trying to win back is deep in Separatist control. He may very well need the full force of the 212th if negotiations turn less than friendly.”

Cody braced himself for an unpleasant trip.

Bail Organa eventually joined them on the bridge—in time for departure but late by soldier standards. He lacked the retinue or even the bright colors and decorations Cody expected of a career politician; in practical clothes, Organa looked normal and competent.

After the extended pleasantries and Obi-Wan’s pre-flight overview, the gaggle dispersed from the bridge and the fleet was underway.

“This is a dangerous mission, sir. I’ll surround you with a detail of soldiers, but your safety isn’t guaranteed,” Cody warned him.

There was no fear nor hesitation in Organa’s expression. He even shared an easy smile. “I understand. But as of right now, the people in the Eufrey System are in even more danger outside of the Republic. The Separatists will bring war down on them, just for a few resources. It would be worse if I didn’t try.”

* * *

Years later, Cody still remembered the moment his assumptions about the selfless senator from Alderaan were shattered. Throughout that hyperspace journey, Organa never treated the clones with condescension, but as free thinking adults, and that respect was repaid to the senator by all the clones who met him.

Cody glanced out the transparisteel windows into the blackness of space, trying to ignore his own sullen reflection. It was the same view he’d seen since his assignment to this space station at the edge of the Unknown Regions, where stars were sparser and no trouble ever happened.

All clones—the ones who hadn’t been retired immediately after the war, at least—had been stripped of their units and reassigned to the Border Legion patrolling the edge of the Empire, guarding from any possible outside threat. But they all knew they were swept aside to be forgotten. Over a year after working a thankless job that the rest of the Empire didn’t even know about, clones began defecting from the ranks. Reports of this sent up the chain of command to the non-clone officers went unheeded.

The military no longer cared what happened to the clone units.

And in the face of blatant dismissal, after the clones had fought so hard for the Republic, it was no wonder Cody sought the memories of being respected. He couldn’t bring himself to think of his late general. Even being a good soldier following orders somehow left a sharp taste in his mouth and an ache in his chest. Bail was the safe memory.

Cody had run into Senator Organa one other time during the grand sendoff, where the Imperial Senate bid the clones farewell on their journey to continue the life of a soldier and uphold safety along the border. Organa approached him, specifically, and reintroduced himself as if Cody could have forgotten him.

“I’m offering you an open invitation to come to Alderaan anytime,” Organa had said, laying a heavy hand on the clone’s shoulder bell. “I think… we’d have beneficial things to discuss, concerning the end of the Republic we fought so hard to preserve.”

He’d given Cody his direct holofrequency, and a year later Cody still carried that with him on his utility belt, along with the offer that replayed in his thoughts.

His reflection faded as he stepped away from the windows, continuing his rounds down the stark gray halls just as nondescript as himself. As Cody and his men no longer comprised the 212th, they gave up the orange markings for shiny Phase III armor with dull gray lines down the helmets and a block of gray on their chest plates reminiscent of a pauldron. The change between the war and his present duties were almost farcical, and yet Cody never took Organa up on the offer, because as leader of the Second Division, he couldn’t leave his men behind. Even if they lacked the same cohesiveness since the end of the war.

His patrol over, Cody returned to his office to trudge through the reports that were still as important to the Legion as the rest of the Army. The newest report was of another defector, CC-8826. Cody cross referenced the number and the bad taste returned. Captain Neyo was now missing, which added to the list of high ranking clones who had apparently defected. Clones that had personally received the Order 66 execution from Palpatine himself.

Cody was never one for paranoia, but a premonitory voice in the back of his mind speculated he might be next.

His office door slid open and two clones entered.

“CC-2224?” one said.

Cody hadn’t heard his own name in over a year now.

“Yes?” Clearly they weren’t his. They held their rifles at the low ready, safeties off.

“Come with us, sir.”

* * *

Bail sat in his study in House Organa, the warm light from a lazy afternoon filtering through the windows.

With a sudden chirp, his holodisc vibrating on his desk had him cycling through the names of anyone who could possibly be contacting him now when the Senate was adjourned for the week. He came up blank.

An unfamiliar bust of Phase III clone armor flickered to life in his hand. “Senator Organa? It’s CC-22—er… it’s Commander Cody, sir. Does that invitation to Alderaan still stand?”

“Cody!” Bail called, falling against his chair back. Ten different questions swarmed at once, all of which could be asked in person. “It’s good to hear from you. Of course, come to Alderaan at your earliest convenience! I’ll send you coordinates and a landing code.”

“Appreciated, Senator. I’m on my way.”

The deep, permeating silence that fell as Cody’s image faded was filled with the heavy scrape of Bail’s chair as he jumped up and hurried out of his office.

Two levels below, he found Breha in Leia’s room, reshaping their daughter’s hair into a braided updo, as she always had to do after Leia’s nap.

“Good news—we might finally get that break we were hoping for!” He greeted both his wife and his daughter with forehead kisses. Leia giggled and clapped. “The clone commander who worked directly with Obi-Wan Kenobi just contacted me; he’s traveling here.”

Breha didn’t share his smile. “Please don’t let the first thing you talk about with him be the rebellion.”

“I have a little more discretion than that. ...It was going to be the second.”

“Bail,” she said in that warning voice reserved for when Leia pushed her boundaries. “He could very well be sent by the Emperor himself, trying to identify who’s a part of the rebellion. _Please_ be careful!”

His perfect scenarios of uncovering all of the Emperor’s plans popped in the wake of her grounded logic. He reined in his excitement and gave Breha a proper kiss. “You’re right, my dear, as usual.”

 

Snow-capped mountain ranges cut jagged lines across the sky, while nothing but green blanketed their bases. From here on the open landing pad, House Organa’s towers looked like imitation peaks, nowhere near as grand as the nature dwarfing them.

Bail stood ahead of a security detail as an old personal ship landed, not even distantly related to military grade, and Cody exited with his gray helmet under one arm.

“Welcome to Alderaan!” Bail greeted, holding out a hand. Cody grasped his forearm in true clone fashion. “I hope your travels were uneventful?”

“I switched between transports twice, so I don’t expect I was followed, sir,” Cody reported. “The first ship I grabbed wouldn’t have made it this far on its own, anyway.” His gazed flicked around the men in the vicinity, lingering a little longer on their weapons.

“Please, call me Bail.” He led the way into the nearest tower, explaining, “This is the royal palace, and you’re welcome to travel anywhere within. We’ll set you up in a guest bedroom. I’ll have the cooks make you something, because I’m sure you’re hungry after your trip.”

Bail showed Cody to a room and continued on his way, heeding his wife’s warning and yet _feeling_ that this wasn’t a trap of any kind. Although he had been far more morally inclined than some senators, living as a monarch and a politician had brought Bail face to face with bounty hunters, spies, and assassins of varying degrees of competency. He sensed no deceptive, ulterior motive in Cody, nothing that made his hair stand on end. And while he was no Jedi, Bail’s extended time as a senator had to count for _something_.

* * *

Cody attempted to shed the memories of the Border Legion clones firing on him as each piece of armor hit the carpet—he never treated his gray armor with the same respect as he had his orange plastoid. Cody didn’t know where the clones would’ve taken him, and he never gave them a chance to explain. The moment he defied them they opened fire—unfortunately for them, on a clone with some of the most combat experience out of the whole Legion. His escape still clutched his chest, freezing his lungs, even though he knew those soldiers couldn’t hurt him anymore.

Safety, however, was not something Cody was used to. Sitting in the comfort of a decorated dining hall arching larger than a barracks sleeping bay, devoid of everything that defined him over the last fifteen years, Cody couldn’t shake the feeling of surreality. He wore Alderaanian clothes, nowhere near as snug as his bodysuit nor as comforting as his armor, next to a grand wall of windows with a spectacular view.

Alderaan reminded him of countless campaigns across outer rim worlds, and yet this one lacked the craters and twisted destruction of those war-ravaged planets. It was worlds like this one—which Cody had never before seen—that the Republic had fought for. A year ago, it would’ve swelled Cody with pride. But with the GAR gutted to make room for non-clones, and the actual clones shoved to the far edges of the Empire to literally be forgotten, prior service to this new Empire failed to surface through his apathy.

A servant entered the empty hall pushing a covered cart, followed by Bail with a child in his arms. The Senator sat down at the table with Cody, all grace and charisma and nonchalance at being in his element. The server left a plate of food in front of Cody and wheeled away. The child on Bail’s lap was dressed finer than Cody, and took great interest in the tassels hanging from her father’s coat.

“This is my daughter Leia,” Bail said with clear pride in his smile. He turned that smile onto Cody, and addressed him as if they were longtime friends. “You can’t even believe my surprise when you contacted me. I was beginning to think I’d never see you again, especially after the Empire moved you all to the edge of the galaxy.”

“It wasn’t an easy decision,” said Cody. He absentmindedly pushed the food around his plate, thinking of the good clones still under his command not even two days earlier. “But it was made for me, and I left all my soldiers behind because—”

_I thought you could help._

And just sitting across from the Senator, Cody truly believed Bail had the ability and the drive to help him. Bail certainly radiated empathy, which was something else Cody hadn’t witnessed in over a year, at least ever since the Jedi.

Cody stopped stalling and finally took a bite of his food. After a life of GAR-processed rations and the unwanted leftovers the Empire deigned good enough for their clone contingent, Cody had forgotten that food had a taste. He hardly paused once until his plate was clean.

“I understand how much of a risk you took by leaving the Empire,” Bail said, his voice dropping quieter even though they were the only ones in the room. Leia’s coos as she chewed on a decorative cord almost drowned him out. “You’ll be safe here. If there’s anything I can do to help you while you’re here, don’t hesitate to ask me.”

“Rescuing my brothers is probably out of your power.”

Bail mirrored his dejected expression and deadpanned, “I don’t think we have enough rooms for all those soldiers. But…” His voice trailed off as he studied Cody, and the clone wanted nothing more than for Bail to decide to continue that line of thought.

“I’ll help, sir,” Cody spoke up. “I promise, just tell me what to do.”

“It’s not a quick fix by any means,” Bail amended. “But, your brothers wouldn’t have to patrol for the Empire if… the Empire didn’t exist.”

His elbows on the table, Cody rested his forehead on his interlocked hands, staring at his empty plate. He exhaled, trying to rein in his imagination. Bail was no Jedi, and yet Cody was heaping his trust on him as if he could lead a battalion straight into the heart of the Empire and overthrow this new leadership as the clones had overthrown the Separatists across numerous planets.

That wasn’t going to happen. And yet he couldn’t stop hanging on Bail’s every word.

“What happened at the end of the war?” the senator asked, as carefully as everything else about his conversation.

Cody immediately pushed the image of Kenobi falling from the cliffside out of his mind. His throat grew tight at another memory sparking in its place, of Rex trying to tell him something after the 501st campaign to Ringo Vinda. Something about a setup. Something Cody had never pursued before, not with the hectic culmination of the war tasking clone units to every corner of the Republic.

But now, Cody had no reason to be loyal to an organization that had singled him out for early, permanent retirement.

* * *

Hours after a sleepy Leia had been taken away by a nurse, as the quiet ambiance of the moon coating the mountains in an ethereal haze snuck into the palace itself, Bail escorted Cody back down plush hallways. Against his wife’s wishes, they’d discussed Order 66, the rebellion, and their mutual dissatisfaction with the Empire.

Bail withheld his knowledge of Obi-Wan—after all Cody had already been through, he’d had enough revelations for one day.

“I’m very impressed and humbled you took me up on this offer,” Bail reiterated as they ascended to the level of living quarters. “It motivates me to strive harder to improve the galaxy.”

Cody scrunched away from this praise as he had all day, and the shyness didn’t seem to fit a clone trooper, especially one often praised for his and his soldiers’ accomplishments during the war. Things had changed drastically since then, though. Bail would just have to find the right balance in order to properly engage Cody to assist with a rebellion he hadn't fully disclosed.

He’d have to assure his wife later on that although he _discussed_ the rebellion with Cody, he wasn’t about to _introduce_ him to any of its key people anytime soon.

“We have breakfast tomorrow around midmorning. If you join us, I’d love for you to meet my wife; she’ll like you.” He stopped in front of Cody’s door and held out his hand.

Cody again grasped his forearm but this time didn’t let go.

Bail couldn’t imagine being born into a way of life constantly surrounded by brothers, only to flee into an atmosphere among strangers, devoid of that social interaction. He pulled Cody into a hug.

He didn’t expect the hug to be returned, and certainly not so strongly. But Cody didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Bail and hold him as tightly as Breha did when he was about to depart for his duties on Coruscant. At least on Bail’s part, it was unexpected but not unwelcome.

Cody finally pulled away, unabashed.  

“Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a new day,” Bail said.

* * *

Breha already sat tucked in on her side of the bed by the time Bail entered the room, her reading light the only soft illumination. She tipped her datapad down onto the covers. “How is he?”

“A little nervous,” Bail said, unfastening his outer coat, “but that might go away in time. I expect he’s going to be lonely, more than anything else.”

She caught the looks he cast her way as he continued to undress, the glances of hopeful pleading more fit for a man half his age too shy to speak his mind. “And?” she prompted, sliding the ‘pad onto her bedside table. Breha knew when Bail didn’t have anything more duracrete than the spark of an idea, he was prone to talk more with his hands.

He practically mimed his suggestion. “And I was considering we could…keep him company while he stays here?”

“What, were you planning on inviting him into our bed?” she asked, a smirk rounding her face.

“Well, it wasn’t going to be my first suggestion. It was going to be my second.”

“I haven’t even met him yet!” Breha said, which was Bail’s idea from the start, to not overwhelm Cody with new, unfamiliar faces all at once.

Bail pointed toward the door. “He’s just down the hall.”

“Let him have a moment’s peace!” she laughed, holding out an inviting hand. “You can’t fix everything by yourself. Let him get acclimated, and then see if he needs our help.”

Bail sighed a concession before joining her, still not completely changed into his sleeping clothes yet. "I'll hold you to that." 

* * *

Down the hall, Cody had the best night’s sleep in the last four years.

 


End file.
